


One Night in Bangkok

by Jain



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Character of Color, Community: yuletide, F/F, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She had given the Great Weasel's pelt to a girl who had caught her eye, and the girl had been appropriately grateful." -- Chapter 10, <i>Neverwhere</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Bangkok

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gregariousProtagonist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregariousProtagonist/gifts).



The rats in Bangkok were standoffish. Hunter hadn't traveled enough in Southeast Asia to know if that was typical of the region, or if it was only this one city in which the various rat clans had decided that humans weren't worth the effort.

Luckily, the potential vacuum left by the rats was filled instead by lizards--the Pacific house gecko, to be precise--who were both ubiquitous and as friendly as a reptile could reasonably be expected to be. Khun Anuthat granted Hunter an audience as soon as one of the lizard-speakers explained to her Hunter's purpose in coming to Bangkok.

"Khun Anuthat says that she will give you any help you need in your hunt," the translator, Prasert, told Hunter after listening in respectful silence to a long string of chirps and clicks. "The lizards have a deep cache of weapons and armor, of which you can take your pick."

"Thank her for me," Hunter said. "But all I need is the Great Weasel's last known location."

Then she remembered the jungle that had overtaken the underground in places and added, "And perhaps a guide to take me near there." Hunter was an expert at navigating and tracking her prey through the labyrinthine networks of underground tunnels and sewers, but she'd little experience of jungles or forests.

She cast her eyes over the crowd of lizard-speakers who were witness to her audience with Khun Anuthat. Prasert was both elderly and almost certainly too valuable to send into danger; among his languages he could count lizard, Thai, Arabic (in which language he and Hunter were conversing), and French (which he'd initially tried, though Hunter's French was only good enough to tell him that she didn't speak it), and likely others besides. Hunter didn't intend to let anyone die during her hunt--including herself--but that was no reason to foolhardily risk a valuable member of the lizard-speaker community.

There were a number of better options in the crowd, though, from gangly teenagers to tough middle-aged folk. One especially pretty girl--perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old--was watching Hunter's audience with shining eyes, and Hunter took care not to let her gaze fall on the girl overmuch, so as not to unduly influence the lizard-speakers' decision.

Prasert addressed the crowd in Thai, and the pretty girl stepped forward with a quick smile at Hunter.

"Darunee will guide you. She doesn't know Arabic, but she knows a little English," Prasert said. He shifted to that language to ask, "Do you speak English, too?"

"I do," Hunter said, with an answering smile for Darunee. She turned back to Prasert. "One more favor? Could someone watch my bag for me?" She indicated the knapsack she'd dropped to the ground, containing clothes and toiletries and a book for the train. The bag containing her weapons was still on her back and would remain there until just before she engaged the weasel.

"Of course," Prasert said.

"Thank you," Hunter said, first to Khun Anuthat and then to Prasert. She turned to Darunee. "Shall we go?"

"This way," Darunee said and led them through the parting crowd, out the door, and into a shadowy stretch of jungle that grew almost into the lizard-speakers' hall.

They walked in silence for several minutes, before Darunee drew an audible breath and said, "Did you kill all these?" She gestured towards Hunter's leather shirt and leggings.

Hunter swelled a little with pride and appreciation that Darunee recognized the effort that had gone into her clothing. Nineteen animals had given their hides to Hunter's leather clothes. Many of them had been huge, and she'd made arrangements with the tanner to reserve a portion of the leather for her and to sell the rest.

"Yes, I did," she said.

"So you're good," Darunee said, an oddly hopeful note in her voice. Had the Great Weasel terrorized the lizard-speaker community that much, or was it possible that she was concerned for Hunter? Hunter softened slightly in either case.

"I've killed monsters before," she said obliquely.

Darunee opened her mouth as though to say something, then subsided. They walked in silence once more, through concrete tunnels and mango groves and concrete tunnels again: the tunnels oddly lit with a strange green fungus that climbed the walls, and the jungle softly dark. At last Darunee stopped and pointed towards what appeared to be a vast deserted city. "It lives there, when it's not hunting."

Hunter slipped her bag to the ground and took out a boiled leather shield. She was about to take out a long knife--almost a sword--as well, when she was stayed by a soft touch on her arm.

"I can fix this for you," Darunee said. She fingered a long rip in Hunter's sleeve, a sudden blush tinging her cheeks pink. She gave Hunter a brave smile. "When you come back."

"You've worked with leather before?" Hunter asked, not quite idly.

Darunee nodded. "Anything people bring me to sew."

Hunter's hand slipped past the knife to grasp a heavy leaden throwing stick. She could kill almost as well with the one as with the other, and the throwing stick would leave the weasel's pelt undamaged. A suitable gift for a bright-eyed and lovely young girl. "You'll be safe returning to the lizard-speakers' hall?" she asked Darunee.

Darunee nodded again, more hesitantly. "But won't you need me to guide you back?"

Hunter almost laughed, but kept it to a gentle smile. "I know the way now. Don't worry. I hope to see you soon."

Darunee's blush deepened--oh, such youth and sweetness--and Hunter felt half-inclined to kiss her for luck before letting her go. But that would be cruelty if Hunter didn't return, and in any case Hunter didn't need the distraction. She'd kiss Darunee if she survived the fight with the Great Weasel; that would serve as additional incentive.

"Hurry home," she urged, already turning her attention to her prey and barely noting Darunee's quickly retreating footsteps. She hung her bag over a nearby tree branch and stepped under the thick overhang of leaves. She slipped her shield onto her left arm and grasped the throwing stick in her right, slowing her heartbeat deliberately as she listened and scented her way. The thick aroma of vegetation and Hunter's own sweaty skin was increasingly covered by the scent of overripe musk: the Great Weasel.

If she was very lucky, she'd smell it coming before it could smell her.

* * *

Hunter wiped sweat from her face and panted for breath, staring down at the Great Weasel's huge corpse. She'd forgotten to make arrangements with anyone to collect its body--or hers, if the fight had gone differently. Before she could berate herself too much for her mistake, she heard several chirps from nearby; a Pacific house gecko was watching from a stone wall.

It darted away as soon as it had caught Hunter's attention, and Hunter relaxed inwardly. The chances that someone would come to help her soon had just gone up enormously. In the meantime, she could at least sit down while continuing to keep an eye out for scavengers.

Twenty minutes later, she heard the sound of wheels and approaching footsteps; she rose to her feet and held her throwing stick in a position that was both easily visible and ready for use. This turned out to be unnecessary. The approaching group included Prasert and several other lizard-speakers, and the wheels belonged to a large, sturdy platform that two of the lizard-speakers were hauling with ropes, more than big enough to carry a fifteen-foot weasel. Either the lizard-speakers had a very eclectic storehouse, or they had built the wheeled platform incredibly quickly after Hunter had left their hall.

She helped the lizard-speakers lift the Great Weasel onto the platform, but let the two original pullers reclaim their places afterwards. She hadn't yet hit a wall of exhaustion, but it wasn't too far off, and it was wiser to conserve her remaining strength lest she wanted the lizard-speakers to have to haul _her_ back along with the weasel.

Darunee wasn't part of the group. Hunter fell into step beside Prasert instead and had a quick and productive conversation including where she could find a furrier to cure the pelt and what would be appropriate recompense for a hot bath, dinner, and a private bed in the lizard-speakers' hall for a day or two. (At first he suggested a piece of the weasel's pelt. When Hunter explained that the entire pelt was a gift for someone else, he changed the price to the remainder of the weasel.)

And then, everything else taken care of, Hunter allowed her eyes to slit half-closed and concentrated only on the steady rhythm of her feet carrying her towards a well-deserved rest.


End file.
